


White Christmas

by Madame_Tentacle



Category: Outlast (Video Games)
Genre: Gen, Office Party, One Shot, drug mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-09
Updated: 2020-01-09
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:54:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22185937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Madame_Tentacle/pseuds/Madame_Tentacle
Summary: Even corrupt corporate executives take a little time to celebrate the holidays!
Relationships: Richard Trager & Jeremy Blaire
Comments: 4
Kudos: 15





	White Christmas

**Author's Note:**

> May this serve as a Merry Belated Christmas, my dears <3

The LED lights in Jeremy's tie flickered in time with the lights on the discount aluminum Christmas tree. Its branches wilted at the weight of the dollar store ornaments, and the angel on top dipped into the uncanny valley with her blow-up doll face paint. 

Such a sorry, artificial specimen could only come from Wal-Mart, according to the gabby secretaries.

"You think that intern would have found us a more dignified tree for the occasion."

"Couldn't agree more. We gave him the 23rd! It couldn't have been that hard to find a tree in time!"

Jeremy rolled his eyes. The pitiful tree made a better view than their knock-off brand dresses. As if a company-mandated holiday party was worth dressing up for. It only happened because of some bullshit lawsuit claiming employees were entitled to observation of religious holidays. Rather than waste the money to buy off the lawyers, Murkoff put together a shoe-string budget Christmas party to quiet the complaints. Someone claimed a day off would be a more legally sound solution, but as they were found to have a previously undiagnosed mental illness, none paid them any heed.

Thus, executives and salaried workers alike strutted around the rec room as if attending a cocktail party, with three piece suits and dresses tailored to resemble designer brands. Only Rick fit the decor with his garish Christmas sweater depicting drunken elves dancing under the phrase, "Let's get elfed up".

"Hey, buddy!" Rick strolled up to Jeremy and slung an arm over his shoulders, nearly spilling his cup of tragically unspiked punch in the process. "Enjoying the party?"

Jeremy’s gaze drifted to the pile of white elephant gifts beneath the tree. Hardly any were competently wrapped, crinkled and tape unfurling. "Is that what we're calling this bullshit?"

"Ah, lighten up, Jer!" He slapped Jeremy's back with enough force to make him lurch. "Not everyday we get to fuck around on company payroll."

"Hardly worth it if illicit substances are prohibited."

"C'mon, it's not so bad! Just look at the show!" He pointed out one of the security guards dancing along with Dean Martin's "Let it Snow" beside a giggling receptionist. "Just look at that clown," he said loud enough for everyone to hear. "He's been pining after the broad for month. He coulda just downed some liquid courage and ask her out like a normal schlub, but no, he thinks flailing around like he's got a fit of seizures is gonna get the girl."

The guard stopped his jig and slunk to the snack table.

Jeremy managed a chuckle. "All right, Rick, I'll give you this. Maybe there is entertainment to be found here."

Through the next hour, they heckled their fellow executives from the water cooler. To keep their energy, they broke into the store-bought cookies meant to be saved for the end of the party. Not that anyone dared scold them, even when Rick took to eating three at a time.

"Mmmphrh!" Crumbs flew as Rick attempted coherency.

"Jesus, Rick, did you forget how to swallow?

When Rick managed to do so, his words came in clear. "Shit, buddy. These cookies are like how Grandma used to make them."

"Your grandma bought them half-off at the grocery store?"

"C'mon, where's your holiday spirit! This is good shit!"

"If only we could say the same for the gift exchange." Jeremy shook his head at the collection of shoddily wrapped gifts underneath the tree. Only his looked immaculate thanks to the intern he charged with the task. The threat of a suspension guaranteed a job well done.

"Y'know what they say. Don't judge a book by its cover."

"We'll see about that."

The executives proceeded to gather around the tree at the receptionist's instructions. Rather than a traditional gift exchange, any gift could be chosen. The "player" would open it in front of everyone and the following player could either choose a new present or "steal" a gift already opened until all were chosen.

"Ah, so like Yankee Swap," Rick remarked.

"What the fuck is Yankee Swap?" Jeremy asked to which he received no explanation.

"And for the first player we nominate our very own Jeremy Blaire!" the receptionist called out.

While the tune changed to "Oh, Christmas Tree," the party offered a polite applause as if they were listening to one of his presentations in the meeting room. Usually, Jeremy would return the favor by flashing a fake smile, but now he only rolled his eyes as he made his way to the pile of gifts. According to the rules, not a single one exceeded twenty dollars. He scowled at the notion and picked the plainest package wrapped in red, as it was the only one not to hurt his eyes. 

Everyone fell silent as he unwrapped it. The security guard was particularly tense as Jeremy pulled out the gift. Fresh from Amazon's warehouse was a pack of margarita cups. They were plain in design, but the back of the box described a cooling feature that promised to keep drinks ice cold for up to 24 hours.

"Damn, that's a good one," Rick said as he read over Jeremy's shoulder.

"For once, I'm inclined to agree. Apparently someone around here has some taste."

"I'll say. Way to start with a bang." His fingers mimicked a gun in punctuation.

"Was this yours?" Jeremy asked.

"Nope."

"Actually, it was mine," the security guard chimed in.

"Huh, I guess we'll never know," Jeremy said without batting an eye.

The party-goers staked their own claims, trading and stealing gifts. Scarves, calendars, and garish ties made their rounds, but no one dared touch Jeremy's cooling martini glasses.

Finally, Rick stood to take his turn. Only one gift remained under the tree, but Rick passed it by and stopped in front of Jeremy.

"You wouldn't dare," Jeremy said.

But Rick held out his hand. "The glasses. Give 'em up."

"No."

Rick tsked, shaking his head. "Sorry, buddy. I don't make the rules."

"You'll regret it if you take these."

Throwing his head back, Rick laughed. "What're you gonna do? Fire me? Fat chance! You and I both know we were hired by the same higher-ups!" He snatched the glasses and whistled, 'We Wish you a Merry Christmas" as he strolled back to his seat.

Whispers erupted in the crowd as Jeremy's jaw dropped. Now empty-handed, he scanned the party for a worthy replacement, but each item's novelty was worse than the last.

Rick pointed to the final present, covered in smiling Santa wrapping paper. "Looks like there's one last gift under the tree with your name on it, buddy!"

Sighing, Jeremy fetched it. With any luck, it'd be a hydroflask knockoff for his vodkas. He tore through the endless Santas and froze.

"C'mon, Jer!" Rick called out. "Show everyone what you got!"

Through narrowed eyes, Jeremy held up a coffee mug shaped like a toilet, complete with the handle.

Most everyone held back their snickers, but Rick cackled. "Wouldn't ya know it! That's the gift I brought!"

If Jeremy's grip tightened anymore, the handle might have shattered. Nonetheless, so long as no one looked at his white knuckles, Jeremy kept his composure as the party wound down. He offered mechanical goodbyes and rehearsed Christmas wishes to executives he couldn't name without their badges. Once the rec room emptied, Rick approached, clapping a hand on Jeremy's shoulder.

"Hey, buddy! Great party, eh?"

"Do not talk to me." Jeremy shrugged his hand off and started off, but Rick called after.

"C'mon! I just wanted to make it up to you!"

Jeremy turned around and held out the cup. "So you're going to take your shitty mug back?"

Rick doubled over laughing, holding his stomach. "That's a good one!" He gasped for breath. "Get it? Cuz it's shaped like a shitter!"

"I'm leaving," Jeremy said.

"Wait, wait, wait," Rick rushed to usher Jeremy back into the rec room. "Just hear me out."

"I'd rather not."

But Rick persisted. "Hey, how about we strike a deal." He held out his hand. "If you don't like it, you could punch my teeth out and blame it on a variant, no questions asked."

Jeremy didn't hesitate to shake his hand. "You got yourself a deal."

"I got three words for you, buddy." Rick pulled out a baggy of unidentified white powder and waved it in front of Jeremy. "Let it snow."

The track switched to "White Christmas" as Jeremy's eyes widened. "Rick...is this?"

"You know it! Purest on the market."

"Where on earth did you get this? Last I heard the only good dealer around here jumped town."

Rick chuckled. "Been saving it for a rainy day." He gave the bag a shake. "What'd ya say?"

"I say this could be a Merry Christmas after all."


End file.
